


Dealer's Choice

by ColossalMistake



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Gen, crude humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColossalMistake/pseuds/ColossalMistake
Summary: Cauldron grudgingly get together for another game night. Alexandria is less than impressed.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: play stupid games win stupid prizes





	Dealer's Choice

"Alright nerd, hope you’re ready for some fun up in this hizz-ouse!” 

The door cracked against the marble white wall as someone with no sense of decorum brutally kicked the poor piece of furniture inwards. To an outside observer, the perfectly statuesque Alexandria hadn’t moved a muscle, the sudden shock of an unexpected intruder simply not worth her notice. 

Internally, she was shitting herself. 

With perfectly measured movements, her eyes flicked minutely upwards, expecting a villain of nightmarish proportions waiting for her. Instead, a pale man stood there, wearing clothes so unremarkably plain that they looped around to being remarkable again. He looked at her expectantly. 

“Well? Come on Lexi, let’s go already!” 

She glanced at the new hole in her wall. Then back to the man. He shrugged. “Those doors suck anyway. Mine are way better.” 

Rebecca felt that familiar cold feeling of oncoming dread settle in her stomach, reminiscent of that time she’d gorged herself on McDonalds and known, just known, that she wouldn’t make it all the way home without paying the emergency rates at Doctor Upchuck’s Vomitarium. 

She coughed politely, supercomputer of a brain whirring for an escape route. “Zero-Twenty-Three, it’s a pleasure to see you, but I’m unfortunately rather preoccupied right no-” 

“Nope. First of the month, you know what that means!” The man’s smile grew, filling all the space that might have held her salvation. 

She didn’t sigh. She was beyond sighing. She was Rebecca Costa-Brown, the undisputed queen of the Protectorate, top dog of the PRT, voted number one on both FHM’s sexiest capes list and their sexiest political figures list, and she did not sigh. 

A blast of cool air washed over the room as Doormaker opened one of his trademark portals, masking the similar blast of cool air coming from her own mouth. David had taught her the technique back when he was vaguely interesting and not sad. Nowadays he only used it to hide his repeated bouts of flatulence.

Speaking of everyone’s least favourite member of the Protectorate, there he was now, sitting awkwardly in a wooden chair with his body twisted slightly to the side, the part of his face not covered by an unkempt unibrow appearing rather sheepish. 

Rebecca politely ignored the faint stench of rotten eggs, although the memory would remain with her forever. She would often wake in the dead of night, haunted by the knowledge that she would retain the lingering remnants of every single one of David’s farts in her brain until the heat death of the universe, when her infallible body would finally fall short. 

Something lightly brushed against her spine, and she reluctantly acquiesced to Doormaker’s attempt to push her through. 

An identical white room waited for them on the other side, filled with the cream of Cauldron’s inner circle all seated around a wooden table that had been hastily spray-painted to match the interior décor. 

The Doctor Mother sat on the far side, wearing a skirt far too short for any respectable doctor, and a lab coat that hugged all the right curves. She chewed the end of her pen and winked at Rebecca as their eyes met. 

A glance to the left of the table, and she found the Custodian, the invisible menace currently dressed up in a cropped white blouse and a plaid skirt. Her favourite naughty schoolgirl outfit. One of the prisoners had asked if she was hot for teacher and she’d responded by flaying the flesh from his bones. 

Opposite the amazing disappearing girl sat Legend, with the Number Man next to him, but they were both already off the market so what was the point in wasting thoughts on them? 

Quietly, she strode around the table to her preferred spot, the one closest to the room’s sole exit. Behind her, the Doormaker clapped his hands. 

“Alright friends, chums, buddies, pals, and amigos! I hereby pronounce the start of this month’s Tim Appreciation Day!” 

Confetti streamed down around them. Rebecca pretended not to notice the pinprick size portals in the ceiling. It was always better to get this over and done with rather than question anything. 

So of course, Legend raised his hand like the naïve child he was. “Um, who is Tim? What are we doing here? I don’t remember doing this last month.” 

Doormaker looked crestfallen as he pulled out his own chair. “Me. I’m Tim.” 

“Uh?” 

“Remember, we had all those meetings about how Cauldron really needs to appreciate every member of staff instead of just the attractive ones?” 

“You lot didn’t tell me about that.” Legend mulled the statement over, the delightfully tiny cogs in his brain trying their hardest to spin. “What else aren’t you lot telling me?” 

“Look, shiny object.” Eidolon summoned a ball of light in his palm and chucked it at a nearby wall. Legend’s eyes followed the projectile as it bounced, his previous train of thought conveniently forgotten. 

“Yep yep yep, so new policy is that on the first of every month, we all get together, play some games, appreciate just how valuable I am to this entire operation, and ya know, have some fun.” Tim the Doormaker shuffled a deck of cards that he’d pulled from somewhere, and with a thunderous crash, a blackjack table fell from the ceiling. 

A few seconds later, the somewhat mangled original table slunk through a portal beneath it, allowing the new one to finally reach the floor. 

“Alright, everyone remembers the house rules?” Rebecca nodded along solemnly as Tim kept shuffling, splitting the deck in two and passing both halves through different portals. 

“No?” Legend asked, bewildered. 

“Great!” Stacks of betting chips landed in front of each of them. Portals flickered in and out of existence as Tim dealt the cards, opening a new hole in reality for each deal. 

Surreptitiously, Rebecca lifted the edges of her cards. Rime, ice climber looking motherfucker that she was, stared back alongside a hefty nine diamonds. Rebecca made a mental note to remove the Protectorate’s themed deck of cards from all merchandising lines. 

Heads turned expectantly towards the first player, and a strong breeze ruffled her hair. 

“Alright, Custodian wants to hit.” Tim flipped another card her way, landing face up. The seven of hearts. No breeze this time. 

“Coolio, Custard’s sticking. How about you jolly green?” 

Rebecca allowed her eyes to narrow as David fumbled with his cards. Two cards. Two whole cards, and he couldn’t hold them properly without dropping one. Every day she thanked whatever gods might be out there that she’d stopped him from taking a role involving any genuine responsibility. 

“Uhm...yes.” 

“Yes hit or yes stick?” 

“...Yes.” 

“You better not be waiting for some card counting powers to charge." 

David swallowed heavily and placed his cards face down. Nobody commented on the rippling noise coming from the base of his chair. 

“Doc Mock, what’s the call?” 

Rebecca turned to watch the older woman, paying close attention to the way her shirt rose and fell with each breath, how she’d bite the edge of her lip when concentrating, the way she’d twirl a loose strand of hair around her finger... 

And that mind, goodness the mind that woman must have. All these years she’d led them, outthinking the golden man for three decades. To duel with a foe so powerful must require a mind unlike any the world had seen before, a strategic master so capable that they’d willing follow her into hell itself, knowing that she’d have all the answers to see them safely through. 

“Hit.” 

“Eight of Clubs.” 

“Shit.” Doctor Mother threw her cards down in a huff. 

A clever bluff, on her part. Rebecca almost allowed herself to smile fondly at Cauldron’s matron. Losing the first round to lull others into a false sense of security was a tactical masterstroke. 

She politely ignored the fact that the Doctor’s gambit had cost the woman almost her entire supply of chips, and tuned back into the conversation. 

“Lightshow, what’s it gonna be?” 

Legend finally looked up from his hand, eyed the rest of the table, and boldly exclaimed, “Hit me.” 

So they did. It was cathartic. 

The Number Man had already placed down a handful of carefully calculated chips before Tim had even opened his mouth. 

“Another card, if you could.” 

This time it was Chevalier’s dopey helm looking gormlessly out at them from the face card. 

“Another.” 

Ace of Spades, with a PRT branded spade™ filling the blank space. 

“Once more.” 

The card hadn’t reached the table before the very tip of Kurt’s lips edged upwards by a millimetre. He placed his own pair down on top of the new three cards. 

“Five card Charlie, and I do believe I win.” 

Inwardly, Rebecca seethed. Not only had she been forced to look at a two-dimensional Rime and her dumbass earmuffs all round, but now Kurt would get the chance to walk away from this farce while she and all the other losers would be forced to endure the greatest shame ever devised by the most intelligent minds of their generation. 

She would have to give their overlord a compliment. 

Tim the Doormaker lounged back on his recliner that had spontaneously appeared, and waited with that damnable grin back on his face. Nobody else had the guts to do the things that needed doing, so once again she dirtied her own hands first. 

“Your doors are adequate, and we appreciate them.” There, that should keep him happy. Well, happy enough that he wouldn’t shut her out of the portal network. The only reason they entertained this nonsense in the first place was because of Doormaker’s previous temper tantrums. 

She did not want to be stranded on Earth Disco again. 

Number Man smugly continued to exist, and the buck passed to Legend. He forced open a bruised eye and spoke through broken teeth. 

“You’re a valued member of the team? I still don’t get what’s going on?” 

Doormaker didn’t shunt him into the world full of bears that divide into even larger bears somehow, so clearly that had appeased him. The Doctor was prepared by the time they reached her, hands steepled in front of her face, highlighting those deep brown eyes. 

“We quite literally could not function without you, and if a single night each month is the price we have to pay for you to not act like a spoiled child, then it is a price we shall pay willing.” 

Doormaker beamed, his finger trailing over to David. 

Before the oaf could put his foot in his mouth, the room’s actual door opened. The relief on David’s face was palpable. 

Rebecca turned in her chair, and her heart fluttered at the sight of Cauldron’s missing member. The game was forgotten in an instant as she launched herself from the chair, flying across the room towards her saviour. 

Contessa stood in the way so she shoved the woman aside and embraced Hero, her one true love that is most definitely canon and not at all creepy because Hero’s age is different here. 

“Help,” she whispered in his ear, nose brushing against the burnished gold of his visor. 

“Sorry, we just dropped in to hand over the pizzas and soda,” he murmured back. She tore her gaze away from him and stared down at Contessa lying motionless on the floor, an opened bottle of Diet Copsi bubbling over her face. 

Number Man stepped past the pair; his glasses tilted at just the right angle to maximise condescension. 

“Do try to enjoy your evening of inanity.” 

“What are you even going to do with the free time? Sit in your office and play with the abacus?” She hissed as he paused on the threshold. 

“Why Alexandria, I’m going to go home and sleep with my wife.” 

The door closed gently behind him, and Rebecca finally pouted.

**Author's Note:**

> No characterisation, coherency, or rational thought was attempted when making this snip. It was churned out in a two hour daze after people kept saying how all the cool kids were making game night snips.


End file.
